


Heard It Through the Grapevine

by Kasuchi



Category: Bleach
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-02
Updated: 2010-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/pseuds/Kasuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo's been having some really crazy dreams lately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heard It Through the Grapevine

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Notes on a High School Scandal](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/13218) by jaina. 



Ichigo had the _most disturbing dream ever_ one night in Soul Society.

He sat up in the bed in the recovery ward, wounds itching under all of the bandages, and groaned. The slips of the dream escaped him like sand through his fingers, and he was left with impressions - warmth and softness and something like _desire_.

He glanced around the room, darkness cut by moonlight seeping in past the rice-paper panels in the shoji and a lamp glowing in the next room over where one of the Fourth kept vigil.

He flopped back onto the futon and sighed, eyes fixed on an indeterminate point on the ceiling. Two beds away, Renji snored like a city bus. Ichigo rolled his eyes and settled back under his covers.

Whatever. It probably wasn't that important, anyway.

&&&

Ichigo was doing his homework - his stupid summer homework that he probably shouldn't be doing a week before classes started and two weeks after getting the shit kicked out of him - when it happened again. Well. Perhaps "doing his homework" was stretching it. In truth, he was daydreaming, ignoring the English verb charts and pages of trigonometric equations scattered before him.

As he watched a large, puffy white cloud pass by, he felt it, a swooping sensation, and suddenly the feeling was everywhere. He felt the give of cotton under his hands and the uncomfortable prickle of nails scratching down his back and that same feeling of wet and warm and soft. His hands flexed and his eyes wouldn't focus, and he could feel his heart racing inexplicably, like he had just sprinted a mile even though he had hardly moved.

The feeling passed again and he nearly slammed face first into the desk, only his hand slapping onto the surface keeping him from breaking his nose in the most embarrassing way possible. He was breathing heavily, heart still racing, and half-hard in his shorts.

_What. The. Hell._

This was just getting annoying, he decided, running a hand through his hair. He waited until his breathing had returned to normal and his heart had calmed down, then picked up his pencil and read the driest, most boring part of his civics reading until he was completely calm. _Completely_ calm.

&&&

Two days before school was set to resume, it happened again.

Ichigo threw the towel he had been using to dry his hair in the hamper and lay down, head aching and body tired. It had been a long day, a marathon of homework capped with an essay entirely in English. But he was done, and the next two days were his.

It was a warm night, and he was thankful to have opted to sleep just in boxers. His window was open - a habit, at this point - and he fell asleep listening to the air whoosh inside.

 _It's bright,_ was his first thought, eyes squinting against the sun. It hung low in the sky, just visible beyond a quickly-thickening cover of heavy, gray clouds. The air smelled like rain.

His eyes adjusted and he was on a rooftop somewhere in town. When he looked at himself, he saw the familiar black and white robes of his shinigami uniform. Reaching up, he felt the weight of his first sword, the white blade strangely reassuring. He palmed the grip, then wrapped his hand around it and turned around.

There was Rukia.

His grip slipped and he was certain the surprise showed on his face. Rukia's expression turned teasing. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. She continued unperturbed; it was like watching a silent film or a pantomime. Her mannerisms were perfect, but all he heard was silence.

Suddenly her jaw dropped, and her expression turned angry. Her gestures grew more forceful until suddenly she was in his space, grabbing onto the front of his robes. He stumbled slightly as she pulled him down, face so close to his that he went cross-eyed trying to focus on her, and then suddenly there wasn't any distance between them at all.

It was just the press of her lips against his, chaste and closemouthed. But something in him reacted instinctively, tilting his head to the side just a little and pressing back on her lips.

She stiffened and then relaxed, and he followed her lead, mouth sliding against hers as she moved and kissed him harder, more insistently. He gasped, and then he felt her tongue in his mouth, the wet warmth of her mouth open to him.

He pulled her closer and felt her hands slide around his chest to his back, nails scratching gently along his spine. She felt soft, the worn cotton of her school uniform gathering under his hands.

There was a rushing sound and suddenly he heard a voice: "Seven point five."

"Tch. Don't be so stingy, Old Man." A chuckle. "I'm going with nine."

Ichigo pulled away suddenly, breaking the kiss and turning to face the voice.

Zangetsu floated nearby, holding up a small white square of a sign. Beside him, sprawled out on the rooftop, was his Hollow, an obscene smile slanting his mouth.

"Ahem." A soft voice cleared its throat, and his head swiveled to face it. A dark-haired, severe looking woman with her hair pulled back into a sleek bun raised an eyebrow and flipped over her card.

"Four point two? That's ridiculous." His Hollow scoffed. "Damn Eastern European judges."

Ichigo gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish. No words would come out, only a vague pained, choking noise.

A warm hand pressed into his own, tugging insistently. He was suddenly running for the edge of the rooftop, Rukia pulling him along behind her. Together they leaped over the edge and--

instead of the hard crunch he had expected, he landed on something soft yet firm. Opening his eyes, he saw soft round mounds surrounding him. Sighing in relief, he rubbed the one he had landed on, curious as to what these mounds were. It - and there was no other word for it - _jiggled_ , and slowly all of the mounds jiggled and revealed nipples of differing size and colors. As realization washed over him, his expression went slack and he screamed.

He sat up in bed, breathing hard. Outside, the moon gleamed brightly, the light filtering inside. The front of his boxers were wet and sticky, and his heart continued to hammer in his throat.

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it," he muttered, and fell back against his pillows.

&&&

The day before Rukia returned, it all clicked into place. Naturally, because this was his life and not, say, that of a manga character's, it happened in the most ridiculous way possible, at the most inconvenient of times.

He _knew_ his family was worried. Yuzu kept trying to get him to eat more, Karin had been strangely silent since the other night, when she had confronted him about his "other job," and his father was pulling punches and not even trying to sneak up on him properly. It was almost annoying how much they worried about him.

And, as if to add insult to literal injury, Inoue was still laid up in the Urahara Shoten, Sado was probably not going to come back to school any time soon, and Tatsuki's arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow. All of his friends were hurt, his family was worried sick, and it was all because he was _weak_.

He went through the motions of his day: rising out of bed, brushing his teeth, pulling on his school uniform, grabbing his bag, taking notes in class, eating lunch, walking home, doing his homework, bath, dress, bed, repeat. He had been on autopilot for two days, ignoring his substitute shinigami badge (the shrieking had started and stopped all day, but he assumed what's-his-face could handle it, or would die trying) and pretending to not see spirits that lingered. Suddenly, he wanted to be anyone but him, and it made him act like he was somehow outside himself.

That night, after he had gone through the motions of his life and dressed, he fell asleep, dreaming almost immediately.

It was the same as the night a week and some ago, the scene on the rooftop with Rukia, but this time the volume was turned up all of the way, and he was well outside of himself, observing from a distance.

"Just-just shut up! I'll show you!" She pulled him to her and kissed him. He could feel her lips on his and ran the tips of his fingers over his mouth.

He watched, fascinated, as the kiss deepened until her hands slid low on his waist, resting against the bones of his hips and just above his ass. As he watched, he felt the ghost of the warmth and weight of her, body flushing hot and cold.

He saw his other self jerk away from her, expression difficult to read. She took a step toward him, voice calm and placating. Other him flinched. She stiffened and dashed off of the edge of the room. The other him sputtered and ran to the roof's edge, but he knew what would happen.

She'd be long gone.

He'd run after her.

They'd defeat a Hollow and return home.

They'd change clothes and he'd try to talk about it.

She shut him down and then _erased his memories_.

"Son of a bitch!" He sat up in bed in his room. "We made out!" With tongues, a dark voice in his mind added. He quashed it.

He ran his hands through his hair and groaned. "Damn it," he muttered.

_As if things couldn't get worse, someone threw hormones back into the mix. Shit._

He sighed and stared at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded. _She did it for a reason,_ he rationalized. _If she wants to pretend like it never happened, then...I can do that. Hell, I've **been** doing that for the last four and a half months._ He snorted and rolled over. _Not like there isn't enough going on anyway._

His thoughts trailed off, and the only noise in the room was his breathing. _I need to get stronger to protect everyone..._

He glanced at the closet door. _I wish she were here._

He turned away from the closet doors and settled into his blankets, mind blank of thoughts as he fell asleep at last.

As Ichigo's breathing evened out, Kon peeked out of a drawer and shot him a concerned look before retreating back inside.

**Author's Note:**

>   1. For **jaina** , with love. I, uh, sort of had permission to write this? Kind of? I mean, we talked about it...like two years ago. Ish. ANYWAY. I know you're working on a sequel to "Notes," of your own, so I hope this inspires you a little bit. I won't crosspost this anywhere unless you give me a go-ahead to do so. It's yours, and I won't take that away from you.
>   2. This is kind of hilarious, but I referenced [my timeline](http://community.livejournal.com/soul_society/848698.html) to make sure I remembered when stuff happened.
>   3. Last section takes place between 195 and 196. (Can you believe it's been like 200 chapters since the Vaizard/Hollow/all of it has happened? So crazy...)
>   4. Last, but certainly not least, thank you **tenebris** and **raynos** for reading this over and doing beta-work. ♥
> 



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